Sunday, January 3, 2010

at dusk, communion with cairo

at dusk the kites rise
billowing in the air
coloring the sky
circling over the city of the dead
like the skirts of a whirling dervish
circle over a stationary floor
red yellow green blue

your air smells of smog
of fried eggplant
of white tuberose
strung on silk thread and
worn around my neck
your datepalms are
pregnant with secrets
(my secrets and yours)
and life-bearing fruit
they tower over you
and over your glorious sand
your glorious dust
your glorious mud
and over your tent-covered market
offering cardamom seed
and hibiscus blossom
and over your ancient temples
where the air lays upon the ruins
like painted glass upon the horizon
and over your ancient river
the father of rivers
as it glows and flows
emerald and elegant
while boats ride it into
the expectant sky of you
my beautiful cairo
my victorious one

the people amble in the streets
and over your bridge of dreams
their long shadows stretching
graying your sidewalks
and the stiff air does not move
to let them pass
to let them breathe
light slivers slowly
threatening to fall
while grains of dust
sporadically speckle the air
and i hold my breath
not for lack of need to breathe
but for worship of you
my beautiful cairo
my victorious one

a child touches my hand
and tugs
and pulls
his toffee eyes look into mine
upturned and dreamy
the saddest eyes i've ever seen
(his or mine)
eyes that have seen
too much too soon
and he smiles
and he wraps
his little fingers in mine
and he saysbahebbik ya amar
while the perfume vendor
sings to me of amber
sings to me of rose
sings to me of musk
and other aromatic aphrodisiacs
that promise sensual satisfactions
and i blink
in the dust
in the dusk
in the purple splendor of you
my beautiful cairo
my victorious one

and the pigeons flock
and the pigeons preen
and the pigeons coo
and the pigeons draw circles
and the pigeons paint silhouettes
upon your sky
and the pigeons chant
in tongues unknown
bestowing their blessings
upon me
upon you
my beautiful cairo
my victorious one

and the minarets hum to one another
in the lavender haze of a day gone by
one more day in your life
my most beautiful cairo
my most victorious one
one more day in your life
that will endure forever
or if not forever
then at least until i die
and am buried beneath
the eternal dust of you
my beautiful cairo
my victorious one

This vision of a place I never thought of getting in through words. YOUR vision, YOUR words... the best depiction... The smell of those scents come out of your poem, and so do the sounds and the lights and the view of that dust and that child's eyes...

I JUST LOVE IT, dear Nevine & queen

I once told Shadow, today I tell you: When I grow old I want to write like you ;)

Maybe because I am reading 'Reading Lolita in Tehran', maybe because I tried to call my mum in Cuba to no avail, maybe because we had a full blue moon on the 1st of January, maybe... maybe... whatever that maybe may be, your poem touched a chord inside my body that has set a melodical chain of memories in motion and sees no sign of abating. Many thanks.

Unrelated question. You were 21 at the end of last year, and now you're 38, is that what happens 'once in a blue moon'? Seventeen years elapse and we don't even notice? :-)

I thank God that I'm allowed to like things different from one another; Writers,Wines (not me--grin!) cities, occupations, people, poets.

So I adore the poems of at least a half dozen bloggers, the writings of many more. and these pages have become a large and indispensable part of my sober life.

But this, THIS...your post today, is TOP SHELF, and could well sit beside whatever you will EVER add to your "bookshelf". thank you SO much for sharing your talent and your work with us--and we get all this stuff from you, Shadow, Calli, Dulce, others and paintings from Manon and Calli, etc., all for FREE!

From the first line with the kites I was transported into another place. I knew it was a far away land, but as the poem unfolded the city became more and more yes, as Jason said, visceral. Whoa. And I just wanted to be there and feel it, and for just an instant your words put me there.

In Jaisalmer, India, on the edge of the Thar desert, I would lie on cusions on the roof of my hotel watching the kites flying off the ancient fort at sunset. I remember that with a melancholy ache, and your poem gives that same feeling back to me.

I am truly thankful to cross paths with wonderful people from all over the world who share their culture, their lives and experiences to others who may not get a chance to see for themselves or who have never heard of such exotic places. Although I have heard of Cairo. The name itself commands authority and gracious beauty. Thank you Nevine for embarking me on such a journey through your eyes, your heart and your lovely mind.

Please don't take this the wrong way, Nevine, but I'm a little shocked.

Your poem was wonderful. Wonderful in that the rhythm was absolutely perfect. SO hard to get rhythm right in poetry! In writing, in fact! But you do it perfectly! It's either something that you hear or you don't, and you absolutely do. I'm charmed and a little warm and fuzzy!

Very happy indeed to have meet you. And thank you also for stopping by the house of the dead spaceman!

Dulce - You really are too sweet. And no words of mine could ever truly capture the spirit of that magnificent city of mine. But, I tried. And thank you for that kindest of compliments; I'm sooooooo flattered, especially when it comes from you, such a fine poet, my dear!

Cuban - I know how it is when all the right chemistry comes together to create that perfect feeling, and I'm just thrilled to have been a part of that magical memory experience you had. And BTW, I also know the feeling of trying to call mom and not being able to get through. I've been there at least a dozen times. And 21 at the end of last year? Yikes. The last time I remember being 21 was 17 years ago. And that was soooo long ago, Dear Cuban. But, I'll tell you this... I do feel 21 in my heart. :-)

Steve - If you aren't the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful man, I don't know who is. And that's all I'm saying about that. And by the way, free stuff is always the funnest, don't you think? Hugs to you, Steve.

Jason - I don't know if I quite got to the viscera; I think I merely scratched the surface. But that was good enough, I suppose. And it was my pleasure to share... :-)

Cat - There are many connections and similarities between so many of those ancient cultures, aren't there? I think flying kites is one of those favorite early evening activities in many of the old eastern cultures. And I'm happy if I brought back some nice memories, though they made you melancholy. Still, there's a bubbling joy inside such sadness. And only you could imagine this as an audio piece, with your audio talent. Yes, I can hear it recited by your lovely voice.

Sharla - And thank you for always being here and sharing such special moments with me. She's my lovely home city, always in my heart, and I'm always afraid to allow myself to write about her, because when I do, I always cry with longing for her. So I'm so happy you liked this; I really do appreciate it.

Steph - Well, I've been wanting to stop in for the past couple of days, but I was sort of off for the past few... so I waited. But I'm happy I finally made it over today. And thank you for stopping in, and for joining me, and of course, for your lovely comment. And if you're feeling warm and fuzzy, then I'm just over the moon. :-)

Laughingwolf - And to you and yours as well. I'll keep banging for as long as I can. ;-)

Owen - I do go home to visit every year if I can, and if not, then every two years. And every time that I go back, some things have changed. But they are all cosmetic things. The spirit of Cairo is the spirit of Cairo - unchanging and undaunted. She is, and always will be, my Cairo, I suppose. Eternal. Thank you for seeing the images, Owen.

COL - What poetic words, COL. I so appreciate such words about my lovely city. And I'm so happy to be back. It feel so good...

What a gorgeous tribute to the place you call home. We all have feelings like this for our homes but rarely do we see that feeling expressed in such an elegant way.

I've wanted to visit Cairo and the rest of Egypt for years and years. Hopefully one day I'll make it there.

It's kite flying season over here in India too. The kite vendors are making a fortune and everywhere I go I get kite string tangled up in my sandals. But it's worth it to see the kites soaring in the sky, swaying with the wind.

Jai - "Elegant" suits me just fine. And I do hope you'll one day make it to Cairo at least; it's such a lovely city. And I suppose you might find many parallels between the Egyptian and the Indian cultures. Kite flying is only one of those parallels, I think.

Turquoise - I'm glad to have given you another small taste of my beloved city. :-)

what a magical carpet ride you granted us with the absolute beauty of your haunting words, dear nevine! words from another place another time cast into this moment - touching each one of us!!! thank you!

Hey Nevine,The poem has taken my breath away. How you manage to make it sound "exotic" (with all its western connotations) but at the same time you show the real thing:"and the stiff air does not moveto let them passto let them breathe"

reminds me of Ahdaf Soueif's writing, the way she manages to reconcile the east and west, istead of showing the two cultures clashing, her literature is hybrid.You, Nevine - have mastered it. You gave the Egyptians their own voice. They speak, unmediated by the foreign, "exotic" perspective. In short, the poem is arrestingly beautiful.

sorry i'm late - running around trying to catch up - thank god i didn't miss this one. absolutely mesmerizing. it moves like the wind under those kites and transcends like the city you describe. if i'd found it in an anthology of immortal classics i would not have been surprised. truly.